PS m99 

.C24 U5 

1861a 







BOSTON 



A COLLECnON OF 

W SCARCE ACTING TRAGEDIES, COMEDIES, 
FARCES AND BURLETTAS. 



UNIPOBM IN PRICB AND STYLE. 

Each Kumber 123^ cts....lO For One Dollar. 




BOSTON: 

WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 
''4^^M^ ^'0- '-'^ WASHINGTON STREET, BOSTON. 

1^" 



^fggm^ 



-\ 



^S|>Cf&S^ ^ Boston Theatre. 

*^ V^Price-,^ 1-2 Cents, each. Ten for One Dollar. 
> 'ii.''^ ^f^^UND VOLUMES, SI. 



VOL. I. 

1 Moll Pitcher, 

2 The Forest Robc, 

3 Swiss Swains, 

4 Bachelor's Bedroom, 

5 Sophia's Supper, 

6 A Roland for an Oliver, 

7 Black-«yed Susan, 

8 John Bull, 

VOL. II. 

9 Satan in Paris, 

10 More Blunders than one, 

11 Eosina Meadows, 

12 The Dumb Belle, 

13 My Aunti 

14 Spring and Autumn, 

15 Six Degrees of Crimea 

16 Limerick Boy, 

VOL. III. 

17 Presumptive Evidence, 
li Man and Wife, 

19 The Sergeant's Wife, 

20 Masks and Faces, 

21 Merry Wives of Windsor, 

22 Nature and Philosophy, 

23 Agnes de Vere, 

24 Shandy Maguire, 

VOL. IV. 

25 Wild Oats, 

26 Michael Erie, 

27 Teddy the Tiler, 

28 Specti-e Bridegi-oOTO, 

29 Idiot Witness. 

' 30 Willow Copse, 

31 Matteo Falcone, 

32 People's Lawyer, 

VOL. V. 

33 Jonny Lind, 

34 Comedy of Errora, 

35 Lucretia Borgia, 

36 Surgeon of Paris. 

37 Patrician's Daughter, 

38 The Two Buzzards, 

39 Shoemaker of Toulouse 

40 Momentous Question, 



I VOL. VI. 

41 Love and Loyalty. 
, 42 Robber's Wife. 
• 43 Happy Man, 

44 Dumb Girl of Genoa. 

45 Wreck Ashore, 

46 Clari. 

47 Miller and his Men. 
: 4'8 Wallace. 

I VOL. VII. 

49 Madelaine. 
60 Betsey Baker. 
51 TheMieman, 

62 No. 1, Round the Comer, 

63 Teddy Roe. 
54 Grist to the Mill. 

65 Object of Interest. 

66 Two Loves and a Life. 

VOL. VIII. 

67 Anne Blake. 
^8 My Fellow Clerk. 
69 Bengal Tiger. 

60 The Steward. 

61 Capt. Kyd. 

62 Nick of the Woods. 

63 The Marble Heart 

64 Laughing Hyena. 

VOL. IX. 

65 Second LoA'e. 

66 The Victor Vanquished. 

67 Our Wife 

68 Dream at Sea. 

69 My Husband's Mirror. 

70 Yankee Land. 

71 Norah Cr» ina, 

72 Good . t Nothing. 

VOL. X. 

73 The First Night 

74 The Rake's Progress. 

75 Pet of the Petticoats. 

76 The Eaton Boy. 

77 Wandering Minstrel. 

78 Wanted 1000 Milliners. 

79 Poor Pillicoddy. 

80 Breach of Promise. 



I VOL. XL 

i 81 The Mummy. 
82 The Review. 

1 83 Lady of the Lake. 

' 84 Still Water Runs Deep. 

j 85 Man of Many Friends. 

I 86 Love in Livery. 

87 Antony and Cleopatra. 

88 The Scholar. 

VOL. XII. 

89 Helping Hands. 

90 Aladdin. 

91 Trying it on. .. 

92 Stage Sfmck Yankee, 

93 Young Wife A OJ^ 

9* Last Man. (Umb'la 
^^ Belles' Stratagem, 
j SScrinolfaie. 

I VOL. Xllx. 

97 Old and Young. 

98 A Family Failing. 

99 The Young Scamp, 

100 The Adopted Child. 

101 The Turned Head. 

102 A Match hi the Dark, 
103Ad>icetor ' ' 

; 104 Raffaelle. 

i VOL. XIV. 

■ 105 Rath Oakley. 

106 The British Slave. 

107 Siamese Twfais, 

103 A Life's Ransom, 
109 Sent to the Tower. 
llOGh-alda, 

ill Tfane Tries all, 

112 Ella Rosenborg. 

i VOL. XV. 

113 Somebody Else. 

114 War ".K ot ih«> Glen 

115 Zelina, ^ 

116 Ladles' Battle, 

117 Art of Acting, 

118 Beatrice, 

119 The Lady of the lions, 

120 Neighbor Jaekwood, 



WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 
PUBLISHER, 

BOSTON. 



\L==-^ 



LOVE'S LABOR SAVED. 



g. Comrbg.—liT ^xzt ^tk. 



H. PrCUKTIS. 



With Original Cast, Costumes, and all the Stage Business. 



BOSTON; 
WILLIAM V. SPENCER, 

94 ■WASHlKGTO^- SXKBETi 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



BoBton Museum, 1861. 



Uncle Robert Siwglb, aged 65, Mr. "Warren. 



John Grampus, 

Edward, ~\ 

Pattt, y Ms Children,. . . 

William, J 

Brownjohn, Patty^s Lover, . 

Dion, Servant, 



50, " McClannin. 

25, " Wilson. 

17, Miss Reignolds, 

16, Miss Josephine Orton. 

27, Mr. Mestayer. 



Louisa Carltle, HouseTceeper, ... " 20, Miss Annie Clark. 

COSTUMES. -d 2.4 '^■^ 

Uncle Robert. Loose coat; breeches; gaiters; white cravat. 
Grampus. Gray trowsers ; dark body-coat ; dark cravat. 
Edward. Riding suit; whip, &c. 
"William. Jacket and trowsers ; turned-over collar. 
Brownjohn. Gentleman's dress ; gray trov/sers ; gloves. 
Dion. Livery — plain. 

Patty. Young girl's dress, rather short skirts. 
Louisa. "White or light-colored dress — simple. 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by H. P. Curtis, 
in the Clerk's Oflace of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 






3/2^/^<^ 



r- 



UNCLE ROBERT: 

OR, 

LOVE'S LABOR SAVED. 



/f^F 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. — Parlor in Grampus' AoMse, handsomely furnished, — 
Doors R., L., and c. 

Louisa and William discovered. — Louisa sits at side, winding wor- 
stedfrom William's hands. — On table near her a tambour frame. 

Louisa. We had better stop now, Mr. William. You will be 
tired. 

William. Tired ! How could I be tired doing anything for you? 
I would pass through fire for your sake, Louisa ! ( Very tenderly.) 

Lou. {laughing). Would you, really? 

Wil. Can you doubt it ? I wish a fire might break out in the 
house this very night — 

Lou. For shame, sir ! — 

Wil, The flames rush to heaven ! — Beams are crashing ! — raf- 
ters tumbling ! Suddenly you throw open an upper window, and 
shriek for assistance ! The stairs are on fire ! — nobody dares enter 
the house ! You are lost ! — 

Lou. Hush, for Heaven's sake ! You terrify me ! 

Wil. But no, not quite lost. I, I am at hand ! I rush in — break 
open your door — carry you out in my arms! — You are saved 1 
{Seizes her in his arms.) 

Lou. (pushing him away,) Be quiet, please. None of that ; — 
you '11 tangle my worsted. 

Wil. Or I wish you would fall into the pond. How delightful to 
jump in after you — save you — dive for you — recover your body — 

Lou. Recover your own senses, this instant, or we shall never 
wind this worsted. (Laughing) You have an extraordinary desire, 
it seems, to have me perish by fire or water. 

Wil. Peiish ! Oh, Louisa ! for a chance to save your life ! Oh, 
for an opportunity to do you some prodigious service ! — deliver you 
from robbers — save you from run-away horses — protect you from 
mad dogs ! I can think, dream, of nothing but how I can best prove 
to you the extent of the adoration, — the burning adoration — 



4 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT I. 

Lou. {taking the skein). Stop, stop, Mr. William; — enough of 
this nonsense. You are too old to behave so like a child. 

Wil. A child ! I am not a child. 

Lou. (laughing). And only fourteen. 

Wil. (proudly). I 'm almost sixteen. 

Lou. So much the "worse, then. I must give up petting you im- 
mediately. 

Wil. Ah, dearest Louisa ! call me child, then, forever. 

Lou. I 'm afraid you read too many silly novels, Mr. William. 
{They advance.) 

Wil. Novels? Oh no — yes — no — that is — I must make my- 
self familiar with American literature, of course, you know ; — Ned 
Buntline, and G. P. R. James, and Sj^lvanus Cobb, and Mrs. Stowe, 
and the Lamplighter, and the Ledger, and — Ah, Louisa, if you 
knew the adoration that fills — (Kneels.) 

Lou. Stand up at once, sir. Mr. William, I must request you, 
seriously, to use a different tone towards me. You must always ad- 
dress me as Miss Carlyle. (She x's l.) I always call you Mr. Wil- 
liam, and — 

Wil. (alarmed). Are you angry with me 1 

Lou. What would your father say, if he heard you talking such 
nonsense to me as you do ? 

Wil. Ah, Louis — Miss Carlyle, I mean — don't mention father ; 
— anything else you please ; — the horrors of conscience, — anything ; 
but don't, don't speak of him. 

Lou. Your uncle, then? 

Wil. Uncle Robert ? Oh, that 's a very different thing, — another 
affair altogether. Speak of him as much as you like. 

Lou. Tell me, Mr. William, what relation is old Mr. Single to the 
family ? I 've been here a month, now, but I don't know the actual 
relationship yet. 

Wil. Oh, well ; let 's think ; I don't know exactly, myself. On 
my mother's side, somehow, I believe. Very distant, at any rate. 

Lou. He seems to be a very good old gentleman ; — so kind and 
obliging. 

Wil. Pie 's the best old chap that ever lived. Ever since mother 
died he 's had the whole management of us children. He 's a real old 
brick, I assure you. Everybody depends on him in this house. If 
any of us gets into a scrape we always run right to him. And he 
has to interpose between us children and father pretty often, too ; for 
father is so savage sometimes. (Tenderly) But yow need no pro- 
tector. 

Lou. Fie, Mr. William ; no nonsense. 

Wil. Even fxther's severity is soothed by the loveliness of your 
disposition. 

Lou. Mi\ Y/illiam, I requested you, only a minute ago — (xton.) 

Wil. Oh, Louisa ! if you could only conceive my devotion to you! 
Dip you remember what the poet says ? — 

" His beaming- eyes o'erflow with love, 
Freely tho tear of rapture runs, 
And wandering pensive in the grove, 
Ilis brothers' noisy sports he shuns. 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 5 

" Her steps the mantling- blusli awake ; 
Her greeting fills his heart with light; 
The fairest /others he culls to deck 
The pathway where — " 

Lou. (turning suddenly). Oh, Mr. William ! this is dreadful ! — 
this is dreadful ! Oh, I hope I 'm mistaken — 

WiL About what? 

Lou. Your father and your uncle have been complaining, for a 
week past, of thefts in the flower-garden ; and every morning I find a 
fresh bouquet in my chamber, and never can discover who places it 
there. Oh, Mr. William — 

Wil. But, Louisa — Miss Carlyle — 

Lou. It is you. 

Wil. Dear Miss Carlyle, I assure you — 

Lou. You not only expose yourself very foolishly to your father's 
just anger — 

WiL 01., please don't ! — 

Lou. But you expose me, too, to serious misconstruction. What 
would they think ? 

Wil. (humbly). I never thought of that. 

Lou. I gave you credit, young as you are, for more reflection, — 
more common sense. 

Wil. Oh, Louisa ! pray, pray forgive me. 

Lou. Not unless you solemnly promise, in future — 

Enter Grampus, Edward, and Patty, c. 

Grampus (very kindly ^ advancing). He shall promise everything 
you require. Miss Carlyle. 

Lou. (starting). Ah! Mr. Grampus. 

Gr. 1 hope you 've been reading him a good lecture. 

Lou. Oh, no sir. I — (William looks at her imploringly.) 

Gr. He 's been in mischief again, I 'm sure. 

Lou. No, no, indeed, sir ; — indeed he has not. 

Gr. (to William). Go to your room, and study your lessons, at 
once, sir. And for the future do everything Miss Carlyle tells you. 
Do you hear ? 

Wil. Yes, sir. [Exit, d. r. h. 

Gr. (All coming forward.) Martha, have you made those ar- 
rangements about the house, with Miss Carlyle, which I spoke of? 
Do so, instantly. 

Patty. I came now to do so, father. Come, if you please, Miss 
Carlyle ; we '11 see about tiiem at once. 

\_Exeunt Patty and Louisa, r. 2 e. 
^ Gr. Edward, go to my library. I have a few instructions to 
give you. I '11 come immediately. I want a few words with uncle, 
first. (Takes up a newspaper .) 

Enter Uncle Egbert, l. 2 e. 

Edward (aside to TJnc-le Egbert). Don't go out without seeing 
me, uncle. I want to speak to you. [ Exit l. d. 2 e. 

Uncle Robert. Did you want me, Grampus? 
1* 



6 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT I. 

Gr, Yes, Single, I want to let you know an arrangement I 've 
made, and also to make you my confidant in a business secret. 

U. B. (l.) Business secret? Well, go on ; I 'm listening. 

Gr. (r.) I'm so convinced that my factory at Cottonville needs 
more undivided attention than I can give it from this distance, that 
I 've determined to send Edward to live there. 

U. B. Edward ? You dont say so ! But — 

Gr. Well? 

U. B. Poor Ned got home only a month ago. He 's scarcely had 
time to turn round yet. It seems to me rather tough to pack him 
off to Cottonville so soon. Let him enjoy himself a little, before he 
goes to work again. 

Gr. Pooh, pooh ! Young men should work. It '11 be time enough 
for him to enjoy himself when he gets to be my age. 

U. B. He won't like it much, I fancy. 

Gr. Like it or not, he goes. I never stand any nonsense. He 
sets off in an hour. Enjoyment, indeed ! Pooh, pooh ! Let his 
rooms remain vacant, for the present, however, till I decide what to 
do with them. 

U. B. Very well. 

Gr. In the second place, this constant robbery of my garden vexes 
me very much. You say you have no trace of the thief? 

U. B. Not the faintest. 

Gr. Very odd. Your room is in the cottage. The thefts happen 
under your very nose. Who the deuce can it be ? One would think 
you might not only detect the scoundrel, but catch him too. 

U. B. Ha, ha ! I should make a poor thief-taker, I fear, with my 
gout and my weak eye-sight. 

Gr. Well, well ; from to-day let the garden-gate be locked every 
evening at eight o'clock. Tell the gardener so. 

U. B. Certainly, certainly. Is that all? 

Gr. No ; now for the most important of all. There 's a great 
quantity of Calcutta goods in store here, now, which can be bought 
at a very low figure ; for the holders are losing interest on them the 
whole time. Now, if France and England recognize this infernal 
bogus Southern Confederacy of ours, these goods are bound to go up ; 
for that 's about the same thing as a declaration of war, they say. 
Luckily for me, however, nobody believes they will do so. There 's 
no telling about it, you see ; for England can't be trusted in the least. 
Her proclamation of neutrality shows that plainly enough. The next 
steamer's news will settle the thing beyond a doubt. It 's a capital 
chance for a speculation, you see. Now, I 've sent Tompkins to New 
York [Boston — Halifax] , to get me the latest news from Europe. 
He 's to telegraph me, the instant the steamer arrives, and I 've ar- 
ranged to have all the usual telegraphs to the papers delayed an hour. 
It cost me a mint of money, but if things turn out as I expect, it '11 
pay, and pay well. If I should happen to be out when the telegram 
comes, the messenger is to give it to you. It '11 have no address on 
it, for safety's sake. As soon as it comes, send and hunt me up, 
wherever I am. The greatest secrecy is absolutely essential, you per- 
ceive ; — no one but you knows an iota of the business. So be sure 
you mind what you do. 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 7 

U. R. Ay, ay, Grampus, I understand. Trust me for that. 

Gr.{xtoL). Very well. That 's all, I think. I '11 go, now, and 
pack off Edward. [Exit l. d. 2 e. 

U. R. Always schemmg and speculating. He's got a handsome 
fortune already, and wants to double it. Well, well ; if everybody 
were as I am, [ suppose the world would soon come to a stand-still. 
Poor Ned ! liow bored he '11 be in that horrid Cotton ville ! Well, 
well, well ; I must be off ; no time to waste. 

Wil. {puitivff his head in at R. 2. e. ) Pst — Uncle Robert, are 
you alone ? 

U. R. Yes, scamp, I am. What now? 

Wil. {coming in). Oh, uncle ! — dear, darling uncle — 

U. R. What 's the matter now ? 

Wil. (coaxingly). Uncle Robert, you must help me instantly. 

U. R. Speak out, lad ; what 's the trouble? 

Wil. (softly). I 've got to stay after school, three days running. 

U. R. Scapegrace ! what have you been up to now ? 

Wil. Oh, uncle, hardly anything. I want you to fix it so father 
shan't suspect me. You know he always makes such an awful row. 

U. R. Well, but won't he m-iss you from the table? 

Wil. If he notices it, tell him I've been invited out ; or say you 
sent me on an errand. Make some nice, good excuse for me. 

U. R. William, when do you mean to begin to be a steady boy ? 

Wil. Oh, Uncle Bob ! preach some other time, please. Promise 
me you '11 help me through this scrape ; now do ! 

U. R. Not unless you tell me what you 've been doing, sir. 

Wil. Oh, a mere nothing, uncle. I was reading the Arabian 
Days' Entertainments, under my desk, and the teacher caught me at 
it ; that 's all. 

IT. R. Now, see the consequences of this vile novel-reading. And 
I 've foi'bidden it so often, too. 

Wil. Don't find fault with me all the time. Uncle Bob. I know 
old folks say a boy should be always cultivating his mind ; (affect- 
edly) but the heart, the heart has its rights. 

U. R. The heart ! Ha, ha, ha ! What do you know about the 
heart ? 

Wil. (offended). Why do you talk to me as if I were a little baby. 
Uncle Robert ? Feel here, — see how rough my beard is. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! — rough as sandpaper. So it is. The heart, 
forsooth ! The lad talks of his heart ! Ha, ha, ha ! 

Wil. Of course I do. I have a precious secret there, / can tell 
you. 

IT. R. Ha, ha, ha ! a precious secret ! You vagabond ! 

Wil. Don't you believe it? Oh, uncle, if you only knew — 
(Pauses.) 

U. R. Knew what ? Come, come, Willie, don't be a fool. 

Wil. A fool ! Uncle Robert, you 're real mean. 

IT. R. Fol do rol ! 'Pon my word ! So your head 's turned with 
novel-reading already, is it? 

Wil. (sentimentally). Ah ! does it need novels to excite emotions 
of love in the susceptible heart ? 



8 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT I. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! This is too much. Tell me, lad, have you se- 
lected your sweetheart yet ? 

Wil. If you '11 promise not to tell — 

U. H. I 'm all curiosity ! 

Wil. Promise me you '11 never tell. 

U. R. Well, I promise. Now for it ; — who is she? 

Wil. {whispering). Miss Carlyle. 

U. R. What ! Why, you little demon ! 

Wil. Oh, Uncle Robert, who can control the aspirations of his 
heart ? She is so beautiful ! Her bright blue eyes beam with such 
rays of heaven ! Her liquid voice is such enchanting music ! 

U. R. Stop, stop ! Ha, ha, ha ! And what does Miss Carlyle say 
to this ? Does she accept your addresses ? 

Wil. Uncle Robert, do you think I could have the courage to 
breathe a syllable of it to her ? No, no ; it 's enough for me to wor- 
ship her in silence. Oh, uncle ! I love her so deeply ! I could die 
for her I — I could strew her path with roses, lilies, violets ! — I 
could — ( Walks theatrically to l.) 

U. R. {seizing his ear). Rascal ! I 've got you ! 

Wil. Ow ! ow ! ow ! Uncle Robert, let go ! 

U. R. You 're the thief ! — you stole our flowers, sir. 

Wil. Hush ! don't speak so loud. No, no, I did n't. It was n't 
I, at all. 

U. R. {dropping his voice). It is you, sir. It can be nobody else. 

Wil. I assure you. Uncle Robert — 

U. R. Fiddle de dee ! don't fib. You can't get off. Now, I '11 
not tell of you this time ; but if ever you do so again, — if I find a 
single bud gone, — I '11 expose you to your father. Now mind. 

Wil. Oh, Uncle Bob ! you couldn't be so mean. 

U. R. Besides, you scamp, it would be better if you 'd attend 
more to your Cicero, and leave story-books to your elders. Bring 
me that book you spoke of, sir, at once. I 've heard of it before. 

Wil. {coaxing). Uncle Robert, you '11 help me along with father 
now, won't you? Alas ! I shan't see her at dinner for three whole 
days. But her image is printed on my heart ! I will think of her, 
and be happy ! ( Coaxing) Uncle Robert, that about the flowers, 
now, is a secret, you know. Father has so much to do, it would be 
too bad to trouble him with that. Now, remember, I 've told you 
my secret. Your heart is too noble, too generous, to betray it. Be 
sure not to tell ; — you 've promised. Good bye. 

lExit, running, c. d. 

U. R. Hallo, good-for-naught ! where now ? Clever lad, Willie. 
So full of life and spirit. And so he 's in love. Ha, ha, ha ! 
-{Sadly) Ah, it's a delightful feeling ! Heigh-ho ! William will be 
more plucky than I was, I fancy. I never could quite make up my 
mind ; so now I 'm nothing but a tedious, tiresome old bachelor. 
Rather early for the boy. Trouble may come of it. No, no ; no 
danger. An early love affair is an excellent thing for a boy like him, 
— keeps him steady, and all that. However, I '11 keep my eye on 
him. 

Pat. {putting her head in at r. h. 2 e.) Hsh ! —uncle ! 

U. R. {looking round). Eh? 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 9 

Pat. Hush! Has father gone out ? 

U. R. What now ? Yes. 

Pat {runv.ing down). Oh, I 'm so thankful ! 

U. R. What 's the matter? 

Pat I want to make you my confidant. 

U. R. Confidant ? 

Pat Yes. {JVods vehemently.) 

U. R. Indeed ! Very well. 

Pat. I'm — afraid — you '11 laugh, uncle. 

U. R. What? 

Pat. Must I speak? 

U. R. Y/hy, my dear, if you want to make me your confidant, 
I 'm afraid you must. 

Pat. Is it possible you can't guess? 

U. R. Guess? Not I. How should I guess ? 

Pat. Heigh-ho ! 

U. R. Indeed, my dear, I 'm not given to guessing ; and if you 
won't speak — 

Pat Well, if I must, then — Turn away your head. (^Whis- 
pers) I 'm in love. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! In love ! 

Pat. {stopping his mouth). Don't speak so loud. 

U. R. You — in love ! 

Pat. (pettishly). Yes, Uncle Robert, I 'm in love. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! Let 's take a look at you, and see how you 
look when you 're in love. 

Pat. Pooh, uncle ! how unkind you are ! 

U. R. Nay, darling, all the good we old folks can get out of you 
young lovers is the fun of a little banter. Well, who 's the happy 
man? 

Pat Now, Uncle Robert — 

U.R. Well. 

Pat. Have you, really and truly, observed nothing ? 

U. R . Nothing whatever. 

Pat. (whispering). Julius. 

U. R. Julius? 

Pat. ]Mr. Brownjohn I 

U. M. Oh ! ah ! — he 's Julius, is he? I wasn't aware. Hem ! 
— ha I — yes. Well ; handsome fellow, Brownjohn. I 've often no- 
ticed him. 

Pat Oh, thank you, uncle, thank you. He is handsome, isn't 
he? 

U. R. But stop, Patty ; seems to me that since Miss Carlyle has 
been with us, he 's been showing her a great deal of attention. How 's 
that? 

Pat That 's a part of our plan. 

U. R. Eh ? 

Pat. Yes ; you see, uncle, we 've been acquainted with each other 
ever so long, — six weeks, — and engaged three. He 's a young 
merchant, and not very well off yet, though he has enough to satisfy 
me, I 'ra sure. So we 've never ventured to tell father yet ; for he 's 
so prejudiced, you know. He says I shall never marry any one 



'10 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT I. 

"whose fortune is n't as large as the one he means to give me. So, 
what can we do ? 

U. R. It 's a difi&cult question for a pair of young lovers, 'faith. 

Pat. Now, dear, darling uncle, do give us your advice. 

U. R. Well, but I don't know what advice to give you. What 
can I do for you ? Now, if I had any money — 

Pat. No, no, not that. We want you to prepare father to learn 
our engagement, — let fall a word or two, now and then, about what 
a fine fellow Julius is, you know. He is a fine fellow, uncle, really. 

U. R. Indeed ! Is it possible ? 

Pat. Yes, really and truly ; — that is — on one single point — 
I 'm not quite — 

U. R. Eh? 

Pat. I '11 tell you the whole story, uncle. You see, it might ex- 
cite father's suspicions to see Julius coming here every day or two, 
you know ; so we agreed he should pretend to be devoting himself to 
Miss Carlyle. 

U. R. Oho ! that 's the reason, is it ? But that was very naughty 
in you, Patty. 

Pat. But it seems to me, sometimes, as if — as if — 

U. R. {laughing). As if he played his part too well, eh? 

Pat. And have you observed it too ? Then my suspicions were 
correct. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! Patty, jealous already ! 

Pat. Oh, no. Uncle Robert, not jealous in the least. But still, 
Louisa is such a flirt — 

U. R. {shaking his head). Louisa a flirt! Oh, fye, Patty ! take 
care — take -care. 

Pat. Yes, uncle, a dreadful flirt. Oh dear ! I see you 've taken 
her into favor, like all the rest. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! true, Patty, true ; she 's bewitched us all, I 
believe. 

Pat. And can you laugh and joke, uncle, when I 'm in such a 
state of anxiety to obtain your advice and assistance? 

U. R. Nay, darling ; what would you have me do ? 

Pat. Oh, uncle, you must help us all you possibly can. Watch 
Miss Carlyle, and tell me if you make any discoveries. And if Julius 
and I should happen to want a tete a tele — 

U. R. You expect me to give you the opportunity 1 Child, child, 
it goes against my conscience. 

Pat. No, no, no, it doesn't, if you really mean to help us. I 
shall never be happy in this world without my Julius. Dear fellow ! 
Father will oppose our marriage only through his prejudices ; and 
you know. Uncle Robert, how very unreasonable prejudiced people 
are. 

IT. R. {aside). How cunningly the little serpent argues ! Minx ! 

Pat. {coaxingly). I knew I should n't be deceived, in making you 
my confidant, uncle. You '11 help us, now, won't you? 

U. R. Hush ; I hear your father coming. 

Pat. Quick, uncle, your hand on it. 

U. R. You torment ! how dare you ? Don't hurry me. 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 11 

Pat Your hand, your hand! Promise to keep our secret, and 
help us. 

U. R. Well — there. 

Pat. Oh, thanks, Uncle Robert, thanks! Dear, darling uncle! 
Now everything will go right. [Exit R. 2 E. 

27. J?. Humph! — Brownjohn ! Well, I never heard anything 
against him. The little snake is right, — her father is brimful of 
prejudices. Well, well, well, I '11 see what I can do for her. 

Enter Grampus, l. d., hat and cane in hand. 

Gr. {speaking off). Good-bye, Edward. You understand my ar- 
rangements. Pleasant journey to you ! (Comes forward.) Edward 
is getting ready the necessary articles, and starts immediately. 

U. R. Very good. (Aside) Poor fellow ! 

Gr. The directions I gave you, a few minutes since — 

U. R. Shall be attended to ; depend on me. (Grampus goes up 
C, ajid comes down r.) 

Gr. By the way, uncle, I feel like making you my confidant. 

U. R. Confidant ! Ha, ha, ha. ! This makes number three ! 
Ha, ha ! 

Gr. Three what? 

CT". R. Hem ! hem ! — I mean you " ve made me your confidant 
twice already. Hem ! 

Gr. Ah ! have I ? Ha, ha ! true. Come, uncle, in confidence, 
now, what's your opinion — hem! — your opinion of — our new 
housekeeper ? 

U. R. Miss Carlyle ? 

Gr. Yes. (Simpers.) 

U. R. Well, she does well enough ; — I think means well. And 
she 's quite pretty, too ; eh ? 

Gr. Pretty ! Is that all ? She 's lovely. Single, — perfectly 
lovely ? 

U. R. Hallo! I say, Grampus — 

Gr. Observe her delicate foot, her taper waist, her soft hand ! 
and what a neck and shoulders she has ! and what a swan-like walk ! 
Eh? 

U. R. Why, Grampus ! Grampus ! 

Gr. I see what you 're thinking about. Well, you can't say I 'm 
not in the prime of life, Single. I — I — in fact, uncle, I begin to 
think I 'm much taken by her. 

U. R. (bursting out laughing). Ha, ha, ha ! Father and son ! 
(Claps his hand to his mouth.) 

Gr. (seizing his arm). Have you noticed it too? 

U. R. Noticed what too ? I 've noticed nothing. 

Gr. Why, that Edward is always casting sheep's eyes at her? 

U. R. Edward ! (.dside) Phew ! 

Gr. Ay, Edward. My eyes are sharp yet, I tell you. He 's fall- 
ing in love with her, heels over head ; so it 's high time I packed him 
off to CottonviUe. 

U. R. So ! — so that was the reason ? 

Gr. Well — hem ! — not the only reason — 

U. R. To get a rival out of the way ! Ha, ha ! 



12 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [aCT I. 

Gr. A rival ! Pooh, pooh ! However — 

U. R. You were saying — however — 

Gr. Yes — hem ! hem ! — 1 've made no fixed plan as yet ; but — 
Come, Single, say, yourself ; — here am I, strong, hale, and hearty, 
and fifty years old. I 've worked like a horse, all my life. Who 
has any right to object, if I begin to think, now, of enjoying myself 
a little? 

U. R. No one, no one, surely. 

Gr. Well, to do that, one must have a companion, you know. 

U. R. No doubt, no doubt. Heigh-ho ! 

Gr. I 'm rich ; and I don't care a fig for what the world will say, 
you know. 

U. R. To be sure. So then, you mean to marry Miss Carlyle, 
and — 

Gr, Pooh, pooh ! not so fast. There 's no so then about it. It 's 
a possibility only, so far. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! Grampus, you 've said quite enough. 

Gr. {slapping him on the back). Ha, ha! I've said nothing yet, 
Uncle. But I want you to find out what she thinks of me, if you can. 
Sound her sentiments a little ; — you understand ; — discover if her 
affections are engaged to any one else. 

U. R. I '11 do it, Gi-ampus, — I '11 do it. It 's the easiest thing 
in the world, I 've no doubt. These young girls never know how to 
keep a secret like us old folks. They 've no experience, — no caution, 
I '11 pump her. 

Gr. Good ! good I Now, one word more. This Brownjohn, who 's 
been coming and going, here, for the last six weeks. I know nothing 
against the fellow, and I believe he stands fair as a merchant. But 
hang him, he shows a great deal too much attention in this quarter. 

U. R. Eh ? not to Louisa ? 

Gr. Of course. Why do you start ? 

U. R. Oh, I — I thought — 

Gr. Not my daughter ! By George ! if I thought that, I 'd soon 
put a spoke in his wheel. ( Walks about. ) 

U. R. No, no, no, no. I 've noticed as much myself, lately. He 
is very devoted to Miss Carlyle, no doubt. 

Gr. Well, so you think so, too ? What shall we do about it ? If 
you could give a little caution to Miss Carlyle, — let fall a word in 
my favor, now and then ; praise my kindness of heart, — my sweet- 
ness of disposition — 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! Ay, ay ; trust me for that. 

Gr. Now, Single, I depend on you. Keep an eye on Brownjohn, 
too ; and above all, be as secret as the grave. 

U. R. I will, I will ; depend on it. 

Gr. Good! (Shakes his hand.) Uncle, if all goes well, you 
shall never regret it, I promise you. [Exit c. r. 

U. R. Queer family, this, 'pon my word ! Ha, ha, ha ! The son 
in love, the daughter in love, and the father in love. What a wry 
face William will make, when his sweetheart becomes his mother-in- 
law ! It '11 read like Don Carlos. However, he 's a mere lad. He '11 
soon get over it. If Edward had been the one, now — So he sends 
the poor fellow off to Cotton ville, out of pure jealousy. Too bad ! 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 13 

too bid ! Ay, he 's a tyrant to liis children, so he is. His sweetness 
of disposition, forsooth! Ha, ha! Hem! — lie's about right, 
though : — I begin to like Miss Carlyle as well as the rest of 'em ; 
and if I thought she could take a fancy to me — 

Entei' Edward and Louisa, l. d, — Edward comes forward, l. 

Ah ! what now? Well, Ned, ready to start ? 

Ed. Uncle, before I go, I want to make you my confidant, 
i U. R, What ! you too ? Is all the world going to make me its 
confidant ? Are you in love, too, you dog ? 

Ed, Worse yet, uncle. Hush ! I 'm married. 

U. R, Married ! — you married ! This is a finisher ! You mar- 
ried! 

Ed, Hush ! — not so loud ! Yes, for the last three months. 

U. R, Three months! {Whispers) And to whom, you unlucky 
fellow, — to whom 1 

Ed. {leading forward Louisa). To this young lady. 

U. R. (^ falling into a chair). Miss Carlyle ! Married ! 

Ed. Louisa, this good gentleman will take care of you while I am 
away. Trust to him without fear. 

Lou. {tenderly, x to c.) You despise me, Mr. Single 5 and with 
good reason. { Weeps.) 

U. R. This is a terrible business ! Your father, poor boy — 

Ed. He '11 be reconciled, by and by, I 'm certain, 

U. R. And William— {xtoc.) 

Ed. What? 

U. R. And Brownjohn — 

Ed. What has he to do with it ? 

U. R. And Patty— Oh, I shall go crazy ! 

Ed. What do you mean by Patty, and Brownjohn, and — 

U. R. Eh ? Good gracious ! I never mentioned 'em. 

Ed. What has Brownjohn to do with my wife ? 

U. R. Oh, nothing, nothing, of course. Hem ! My brain is in 
a perfect whirl. Let me get a little composed, for goodness' sake ! 

Ed. But tell me ! 

U. R. I can't. I 've promised secrecy. 

Ed. Secrecy ! About what ? 

U. R. I should let it out, if I told you. What do you want me to 
do? 

Ed. First promise to be secret. 

U. R. Oh dear me ! that 's just what all the others said. 

Ed. Others ! What others 1 And what has Brownjohn to do 
with us ? You terrify me. 

U. R. Nothing, nothing ; honor bright. Your wife ! Well, well ! 
How grandly it sounds! Ned, lad, I 've long been wishing you'd 
bring a nice little wife into the family. It '11 cheer us up, when the 
little picaninnies — Nay, nay, my dear, don't be vexed. {Lifts 
her head.) Excellent, Ned, excellent ! You 've shown your taste. 

Lou. I entreat, Mr. Single — 

U. R. Nay, darling, oblige me by forgetting my surname. Un- 
cle — everybody calls me uncle ; and you must. But, children, what 
2 



14 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT I. 

•will be the end of this ? There '11 be a terrible explosion, when your 
father hears of it. 

Ed. For the present, then, he mustn't hear of it. All I ask now 
is your protection for my wife. My going to Cottonville has disarm 
ranged all my plans. 

U. R. Tell me, at once, Ned, how it all came about. 

Ed. Very simply. I came to know Louisa, while managing far 
ther's business at Detroit ; and knowing I should never obtain father's 
consent, I persuaded her to consent to a secret marriage. 

Lou. And I was weak enough to be persuaded. Oh, Mr. Single! 
you will scorn me — 

U. R. Uncle, I tell you, child, — uncle. Scorn you? Make 
your mind easy, my dear. I 've seen too much of human nature to 
scorn any one very easily. Go on, Ned. 

Ed. We had been married about two months, when father sud- 
denly summoned me home. At the same time, Louisa's mother, a 
widow, died. What could I do? I knew no family in which to 
place her ; and the thought of separation, at a time when her sor- 
rows made her all the more dependent on me, drove me half wild. 
I smuggled her into this house, as housekeeper, therefore ; partly to 
be constantly near her, and partly, I confess, in hopes that her ami- 
ability of character — 

Lou. Edward! — 

Ed. Might attract father. 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! it has, — it has. Ha, ha, ha ! (Claps his 
hand to his mouth.) 

Ed. What do you mean 1 Explain. 

U. R. That is — yes — he 's spoken very favorably of you, my 
dear, — very favorably indeed. 

Lou. Really 1 — really 1 Oh, I 'm so glad ! 

U. R. Trust her to me, Ned ; trust her to me. 

Ed. Thank you, uncle. One word more. I 'm not to be allowed 
to come home oftener than once a fortnight ; and yet I can't bear to 
be separated so long from Louisa. 

Z7. R. {innocently). Well, my son — 

Ed. That little cottage in the garden, where your room is, Uncle 
Robert, is a capital place for a tete a tete. 

U. R. Why, you young villain ! 

Ed. My wife will let ine know by letter the evenings she is disen- 
gaged. Cottonville is only twenty miles from here, you know. My 
horse can easily do it in a couple of hours. She comes to your room 
through the garden, you see, and I get through the little door in the 
wall. I 've had a key made. In that way I can talk with my little 
wife, without anybody's knowing it. 

U. R. (aside). How cleverly the scamp has laid his plans ! 
, Ed. Then you agree, uncle 1 

U. R. Child, child, what are you thinking of? My duty to your 
father ; my conscience. Such actions as these ! No, no ; it 's out of 
the question, — out of the question. 

Lou. Dearest uncle — 

U. R. Little tease ! 

Ed. You '11 keep our secret, of course. 



6CENK I.] love's LABOR SAVED. 15 

U. R. Hem ! — well, well, I can't say. 

Lou. You 're too kind-hearted to betray us, I 'm sure, uncle. 

U. R. You little monkey ! Well, I suppose I must submit. 

Lou. and Ed. Hurrah ! hurrah ! 

Ed. (x to Louisa). Louisa, dearest, everything will go well now, 
I 'm sure. I 'm happier than I 've been for a week past. (Kisses 
her.) Keep up your spirits, dear one. I shall see you soon. 

U. R. (aside, wiping his mouth). I might have done that once. 
Old ass! why didn't you have a little more pluck"? (ISlaps his 
forehead.) 

Ed. 'Well, my mind 's at ease, now. Good-bye, Uncle Robert ; — 
see you again soon. ( Going.) Stay ; — Louisa, dear, your Uncle 
Bob ; — acknowledged niece, now. Give him a kiss, to prove your 
gratitude. 

U. R. Ahl 

Lou. Will you let me, Uncle Robert 1 

U. R. Oh ! 

Lou. (kissi?ig him). This, with all my heart ! 
. Ed. (drawing her awaxj). Now come. Good-bye, uncle, — good- 
bye. lExeunt c. d. 

U. R. (shutting his eyes). By George ! lips like velvet ! Zounds, 
how sweet ! As clever a lad as ever I saw ; and she 's a charming 
girl. But his father. Bless my soul ! — and William, too. Ha, ha, 
ha ! — and Brownjohn — and Patty — and the flowers — and the 
Calcutta goods — and the school business — and the jealousy — The 
deuce ! I 'm so cram full of secrets I shall certainly blurt out some- 
thing. What a complication! I shall go crazy. Thank Heaven, 
there 's no one else in the house to tell me a secret. 

Servant (opening door, r. h.) Mr, Single — 

Z7. R. (starting, and seizing him by the collar). Rascal ! have 
you a secret, too ? — Do you want to make me your confidant ? — 
AxQ you in love, too 1 

Ser. Yes, sir. 

U. R. With whom, villain? Speak, villain! — with whom? 

Ser. With the cook, sir. 

U. R. (Idling him go). Oh ! ah ! Ha, ha, ha I lucky fellow. 

Ser. Dinner 's ready, sir. [Exit d. r. 

U. R. I began to think he 'd fallen in love with Miss Carlyle, too. 
Ha, ha, ha ! (Sits.) 

END OP ACT I. 



16 FrXLn EOUrKT J ORj [ACT II. 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. — A garden. — Bouse at left. — Wall at back of garden, 
— Street beyond. — Practical gate in loaU. — Jit u.^ fronts a ruS" 
tie arbor, containing table and seat. — A status and shrubbery. 

Enter Grabipus and Uncle Robeet, k. 3 e, 

U. R. (l. c.) GrampuSy it needs the stomach of a steam-engine, to 
walk like this, after one'^s dinner. Don't you know that, at your age ? 
You seem in low spirits. Didn^t your dinner please you 1 

Gr. {growling). Not a bit. 

U. It. Dear me ! I '11 speak to the cook instantly. ( Going.) 

Gr. Pooh ; nonsense ; she '& not in fault. HaTe you kept your eye 
on that infernal puppy 1 

U. E. What puppy 1 William^s 1 

Gr. Pshaw ! no ; I mean that brute Brownjohn. 

U.R. Oh I ah!— hem! 

Gr. He ogles Louisa the whole time ; and he has an infernal knack 
at complimenting. 

U. R. Ha, ha \ he knows what he 's about. {Aside^ putting hand to 
mouth) 'Gad, just saved the secret that time. 

Gr. I tell you. Single, he 's in love with the girl ; and I 'd like to 
kick him out of my house. Single, you '11 tell me I ^m an old fool, 
perhaps — 

U.R. 11 Heaven forbid. 

Gr. {in his ear). I'm really jealous of that beast of a Brownjohn. 

U. R. Jealous ! Ha, ha, ha ! My dear sir, you may make your 
mind pe?^% easy on that score. No danger, I assure you. {Put- 
ting hand to mouth) Ass that I am ! 

Gr. How so % What do you mean % 

U. R. I mean — I mean — yes — Louisa does n^t seem to care for 
Mm in the least, as far as I can see. 

Gr. I hope you 're right, with all my heart. By the way, it 's 
sti'uck me she's been low-spirited, — absent-mmded, as it were, — 
these last three days. 

U. R. Ha, ha ! of course she has. {Puts hand to mouth) Fool ! — 
ass! 

Gr. What? Wliy of cowrse ? 

U. R. I mean — that is — you see — I mean, so many things have 
to be sent to Ned, that her hands have been full of work the whole 
time. 

Gr. Ay, ay; that indeed. Very likely. Hark'e, Single, I've 
been thinking over what I said the other day, and I 've made up my 
mind. Sound Louisa's feehngs, and if you find her well-inclined to 
me, why — then — 

U. R. You '11 maiTy her 1 

Gr. Hush ; not so loud. If you find she doesn't quite hate me, 
give her this note. ( Gives note.) I '11 have a quiet tete a tele with her 
myself, after she 's read it. Write the address on it, if you think best» 
Be cautious, however, and don't betray my secret. 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 17 

U. R. Ay, ay, cousin ; have no fear. I '11 be a perfect fox. 

Gr. My fate '& in your hands. The ladies will soon be out here. 
Perhaps you '11 find an opportunity then. 

U. R. Good. I '11 sound her. 

Gr. Very well ; then, I '11 leave you. ( Going. — Comes hack. ) By 
the way, Single, that flower-stealing has n't stopped yet. Last night 
some of the finest roses in the garden were taken. 

U. R. Ila ! The graceless little scamp ! 

Gr. What? 

U. R. Oh, noth — nothing. 

Gr. I understood you to say — 

U. R. Oh no, I did n't — nothing of the kind. 

Gr. You said scamp, I thought. 

U. R. Oh no. You misunderstood me. 

Gr. Single, I'm convinced you know who the thief is. You've 
betrayed yourself. 

U. R. Pooh, pooh, Grampus ! — pooh, pooh ! 

Gr. You do know, I 'm certain. 

U. R. Why, Grampus — since you — to say the truth — (Pauses. ) 

Gr. What must I infer ? And I don't understand William's ab- 
sence from dinner, for the last three days. He tells me he has your 
permission. Is that so 1 

U. R. Hem ! — hem ! — yes — you see, my dear Grampus — 

Enter William, ^'om house, running across garden. 

Gr. William ! William, I say ! Come here, sir. 

Wil. (down c.) Did you call me, father 1 

Gr. Yes sir, distinctly. Explain your absence from dinner, lately, 
at once. Come. 

Wil. Why, sir — the fact is — Uncle Eobert — 

Gr. Tell the truth, sir. No secrets from me. No lies to your fa- 
ther, sir. 

Wil. Of course not, sir. Why, sir — Oh, father — 

Gr. There 's something behind, here, (x to c.) Single, what has 
William been doing 1 What 's wrong 1 

U. R. Well, well, Grampus, I 've made little Will, here, go with- 
out his dinner for three days, as a punishment. There. 

Gr. A punishment? His master has been complaining of him 
again, has he ? I '11 keep my word, then, sir. You shall go to a 
boarding-school. 

Wil. Oh, father ! — Uncle Kobert ! ( Whispers. ) 

U. R. No, no, no, his master has n't said word, 

Gr. What is it, then ? I insist on knowing. What did you pun- 
ish liim for ? 

U- R. Because he stole the flowers. 

Gr. William? 

Wil. Oh, Uncle Eobert ! 

U. R. I found him out, Grampus, and punished him myself, to 
save you the trouble. That 's the whole story. 

Gr. So, William, you are the thief. 

U. R. Pooh, Grampus, say no more about it. He 's been punished 
enough; and the thing 's gone by, no vv'. {A 2:>ai'.se.) 
2* 



18 FXCLE ROSSRT ; OK, [ACT 11. 

Gr. Let it pass, tlien, this time. Never let it happen again, sir. 
{Draws Uncle Robert aside.) Play your cards well, now. Single. 

{Exit K. 3 E. 

U. R. {wiping forehead). Phew ! that job made me sweat ! 

WiL But, Uncle Robert, you promised not to tell ; and you 've 
just let out the whole to father. It 's real mean. 

U. R. My lad, I could n't help it. Secrets are crawling all over 
me, like catterpillars over an apple-tree. One will drop off now and 
then. Besides, you scamp, you stole more flowers only last night. 
[Seizes him.) 

Wil. No, I didn't, uncle, really and truly. 

U. R. Hush ; don't lie. Lying boys never prosper. When your 
father told me that, the whole thing popped out. You've only your- 
self to thank for it. 

WiL Well, after all, I 'm glad it 's no worse. PeAaps it 's better 
as it is, after all. 

U. R. Yes, rascal, 1 've lied you out of your scrape this time. I 
won't do so again. 

Wil. {coaxingly). Uncle Robert, please tell me your secrets. 

U. R. Mind your business, you inquisitive scamp. [Aside) It ynM 
never do for me to be so absent-minded ^ Bless me ! several of my 
secrets have almost slipped out already. {Exit into house, l. 

Wil. So, that 's found out. And shall Louisa have no more flow- 
ers ? Pooh ! who 's afraid 1 The garden is locked at eight, but I can 
climb over the wall, for I did it last night. Ha, ha ! the affair is grow- 
ing exciting. I wish I knew some trick to play off on that scoundrel 
Brownjohn. He can't keep his eyes off Louisa. I'd like to throw 
sand in 'em, hang him ! He must annoy her excessively. I '11 go 
and get the boat ready. Perhaps she would like a row on the pond. 

{Exit L. 2 E. 

Enter BROWisrjOHN,yrow gate, c. 

Brownjohn [reading from a note-booJc) . 

May I dare to hope, sweet creatwre. 
That what I see in every feature 

Is true., and lam loved? 
Or have 1 erred in so believing; 
And is thy jnanner but deceiving? 

By scorn art only moved ? 

No, in those eyes ivhere teardrops smelly 
Truth, only truth can dare to dwell; 

I feel that thou art mine. 
High, higher yet my pulses flout ; 
Avjay with every anxious doubt ! 
I feel a bliss divine .' 

There, for a chap who never wrote a line of poetiy in his life, that 's 
not so bad. They 've made my head ache like tlio devil, but they '11 
please Patty. Where can she be ? She promised to meet me here. 
[Sits in arbor.) My position here is intolerable. Compelled to make 
love to the housekeeper, to hoodwink the father ; and yet Patty is as 
jealous as a cat, and drives me crazy -with her suspicions. It 's really 
cruel to Miss Carlyle, now, — really it is. She might very easily fall 
in love with me, and, when she finds out the real state of things, die 
of a broken heart. I should never forgive myself, never. 



80EKE I.] love's LABOR SAVED. 19[ 

Enter Louisa, with embroidery in hand. 

Lou. {seeing Browisvohn). AVhat, you here, Mr. Brownjohn'? 

Br. Ah, good day, Miss Carlylo. Always at work, I see. 

Lou. I suppose you came to this shady arbor for a nap 1 

Br. {coming forward). A nap 1 How can anyone think of napping 
in a house where your delightful presence — 

Lou. Eye, sir ; reserve your compliments for a certain young lady 
who cares more for them than I do. 

Enter Patty, ^/rom house. — She draws hack. 

Br. Vv^hom do you mean ? 

Lou. Do you think, seriously, you can deceive me 1 As if I didn't 
see the real meaning of all your fine speeches. Ha, ha ! a little more 
sincerity will do you no harm, Mr. Brownjohn. 

Br. Miss Carlyle, I assure you — 

LjOh. No, no, assure me nothing. Perjury is very wicked. 

Br. Please explain — 

Lou. No ; of whai; use ? You understand me very well. Besides, 
I 've no time to spare. I must leave you now. 

Br. Alas ! why so soon 1 

Lou. I find I 've forgotten my pattern. [Exit into house. 

Br. Can't I get if? {Sees Patty, t^Ao advance.) Ah! dearest 
Patty ! 

Pat. Delightful, sir. You play your part so very well, one can 
almost believe you in earnest. 

Br. Patty! 

Pat. (l.) I left you scarcely five minutes ago, and here you are 
making love to Miss Carlyle already. 

Br. The merest accident. 

Pat. Oh, of course. Accidents happen most conveniently, some- 
sometimes. 

Br. But Miss Carlyle came to me. 

Pat. So much the worse, sir. 

Br. Patty, how can you imagine — 

Po.t. I must believe v/hat I see with my own eyes, sir. 

Br. {coldly). They deceive you greatly, Miss Grampus. 

Pat. Deceive me 1 Did you speak a single word to me all dinner- 
time 1 

Br. No. 

Pat. Didn't you talk with Miss Carlyle the whole time 1 

Br. Yes. 

Pat. Did n't you constantly exchange glances with her 1 

Br. No. 

Pat. What ! you did n't look at her, I suppose. 

Br. I did, but that 's not exchanging glances with her. 

Pat. Oh, how clever we arc, all of a sudden. Did you look at me 
once? 

Br. Yes, indeed, very often. 

Pat. You did n't. 

Br. Indeed I did ; but you refused me a single look. 

Pat. Because you 're a traitor, — a base deceiver. You join Miss 
Carlyle as soon as ever my back 's turned. 



£0 UNCLE EGBERT ; OR, [ACT IK 

Br. Patty, I cannot endure longer being the object of your ground- 
less suspicions. I will return when you are more calm, — morejust. 

Pat. Stay, I command. So you refuse any explanation 1 

Br. Yes. 

Pat. You refuse to justify your behavior ? 

Br. I leave my justification, Patty, to your own good sense — and 
to your heart. 

Pat. {relenting). Mr. Brownjohn — 

Br. Your own sense must show you the painful nature of my posi- 
tion here. I am compelled to feign for another the love I bear for 
you. I am unskilled in deception, and consequently excite nothing 
but suspicion on every side. 

Pat. {more softly). Julius — 

Br. And if you really love me, your own heart will furnish my best 
apology. 

Pat. Julius — 

Br. It still beats fondly for me, I 'm sure, Patty, in spite of your 
occasional fits of jealousy and ill-humor. 

Pat. Julius, I forgive you. 

Br. Ah, darling, thank you. How delightful, to see you reason- 
able and charming once more ! 

Pat. Very comphmentary. You know, Julius, my jealousy only 
proves my love. 

Br. 'T is a strange love, dearest, which is always paining its object. 
But I can endm-e this deception no longer. Can I never get a quiet 
tcte a tete with you ? 

Pat. Fye, Julius ! how can you ? 

Br. Dearest, where is the harm ? Lovers have had tete a tetes ever 
since the world was made. 

Pat. Oh dear ! ought I — 

Br. Consider now, Patty ; how can we manage it ? 

Pat. No, Julius, I cannot — Perhaps in uncle's cottage, yonder. 
!Fi>ther always goes out in the evening, and Uncle Robert is sure to be 
at Lis chess-club. Oh, I 'm certain I shall die — Nobody will inter- 
rupt us ; for the garden is locked at eight. The gardner will let me 
in. Oh, Julius ! I can never, never do such a thing, — never. 

Br. Capital! And I ? — 

Pat. There 's a little door in the wall. I can open it from the in- 
side. Oh, indeed, indeed, you must n't come, Julius. 

Br. {kissing her hand). Charming ! This evening, at eight, then, we 
will decide how to overcome your father's prejudices. 

Pat. My father ! Oh, heavens ! a rock is more easily softened than 
he is. Hush! I see him coming. {Points e.) Go to him, Julius. 
He must n't see us together, on any account. I '11 meet you again, by 
the pond, perhaps. Go, go. 

Br. All revoir. [Exit K. 3 E. 

Pat. He 's a duck of a fellow, after all. I am frightfully cruel to 
him. {LooJcs off.) He meets father — they are talking together — 
they have turned. I 'il see where they go. [Exit k. 3 e. 

Enter William, l. 2 b. 

Wil. I could n't get the boat ; so Louisa must lose her sail. I wish 
Patty did n't always insist on going with us. Oh, it must be heavenly 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 21 

to float with Louisa adown the rippling stream. (Sees note-book on 
table. ) Ah ! what 's this 1 Cards — letters — "J. Broivnjohn, Esq." 
Oil, it's that wretch's. I mustn't meddle. Stop; what's this? 
Poetry. {Reads it.) Oh! good, — first rate! Ha! can he have 
meant it for Louisa ? It must be. Oh, the villain ! {About to tear 
it.) Stop ; a good idea ; — the best revenge I could have. I '11 give 
it to Louisa myself. She '11 think I wrote it, and admire me im- 
mensely ; and he '11 be cheated of it. Capital ! — two birds with one 
stone. {iTars out verses, and throws note-book under table.) Hurrah! 
what luck ! [Epcit, running. 

Enter Patty, r. 3 e. 

Pat. They 've turned again, and are coming this way. They shall 
find me in the arbor. {An embroidery-frarae lies on table.) 

Enter Louis A, //-om house, with pattern in hand. — She thrusts a letter in 
her bosom. 

Pat. {in arbor). Who can Miss Carlyle be working this embroidery 
for ■? She has no lover that I know of. Ha ! dreadful suspicion ! 
Can it be for Julius ? 

Lou. {not seeing Patty). Where can Mr. Single be 1 He promised 
to take charge of my letter ; and there 's no time to be lost. 

Pat. Hush ! There she is. As soon as I see her, all my suspi- 
cions return at once. 

Re-enter William, running, at side. — He signals to Louisa, throws 
paper at her feet, putsjinger to lip, and exits. 

Pat. What can this mean 1 

Lou. {picking up paper). Verses 1 

Pat. A letter ! I must see this. ( Coming out of arbor) So absorbed. 
Miss Carlyle ? 

Lou. {starting). Oh, how you frightened me ! I thought no one was 
here. 

Pat. (r.) No one likes to be disturbed, when they prefer to be alone, 
of course. 

Lou. (l., laughing). Have you ever observed, Miss Martha, that I 
have a preference for solitude 1 

Pat. Not at all times, Miss Carlyle ; but you will admit there are 
moments when company is disagreeable. 

Lou. Oh, certainly. 

Pat. Por instance, when one has a private note to read. 

Lou. Ah, you saw it, then ? One of your brother William's writ- 
ing-exercises. At least, I suppose so ; for if the verses are his own he 
has no great taste for poetry. 

Pat. Verses? 

Lou. Sec for yourself? 

Pat. {taking paper, and recognizing the hand). Ha! Tliis is abom- 
inable ! 

Lou. {shocked). What 's the matter ? 

Pat. Hypocrite ! You are detected ! You may feign innocence, 
but I see through your infamous schemes ! 

Lou. Miss Grampus, I do not understand you. 



22 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT TI. 

Pat. "What! persist in your hypocrisy! Shameless creature! 
Is n^t this his handwriting 1 

Lou. Your brother's ? 

Pat. My brothers ! This is too much ! 

Lou. You speak in riddles. 

Pat. {walking about). Oh, wretch ! away with your airs of inno- 
cence ! They deceive me no longer. But I '11 be revenged ! — yes, 
my vengeance shall equal the contempt I feel for you both ! 

Lou. (r.) Can you believe that your brother — a mere"f)oy — 

Pat. (l.) Yes, a mere boy; and so all the easier to be hood- 
winked. 

Lou. Miss Grampus, this accusation — 

Pat. How should a mere boy like him know the disgrace of being 
made a go-between ? 

Lou. A go-between ? I understand you less than ever. 

Pat. Ah ! here comes father and Mr. Brownjohn. Come here, gen- 
tlemen, — come here. I have some wonderful poetry to read to you. 

Enter Grampus and Brown johk, r. 3 e. 

Gr. Poetry, Martha ? For Heaven's sake, spare us the trash. 
Pat. No, no, father ; listen. {Reads angrily) 

" May I dare to hope, sweet creature^ 
That ivhat I see in every feature 
Is true, and I am loved ? " 

Br. Ha ! what 's this ? {Feels in pockets.) 

Pat. .Oh, yes, sir, you may dare to hope. {Reads) 

" Or have I erred in so believing, 
And is thy ']nanner so deceiving ; 
By scorn art only moved ? " 

Br. "Where did you get — 

Pat. Oh, no, sir, you 've not en-ed in so believing. Her manner is 
not deceiving ; oh, no ! 
Lou. {aside). I comprehend, now. 
Gr. Oh, hush that nonsense. 
Pat. No, no, father; hear the rest of it. {Reads) 

" No, in those eyes tvkere tear-drops swells 
Truth, only truth can dare to dwell. 
I feel that thou art mine.'' 

No doubt you do, sir. {Reads) 

" High, higher yet my pulses, fiout; 
Aivay with every anxious doubt ; 
I feel a bliss divine I " 

How beautiful ! — "I feel a bliss divine ! " 

Gr. Martha, these verses are execrable. 

Pat. Hush, father ; the author is close by. 

Gr. What ! Mr. Brownjohn, are you the poet 1 

Br. Your daughter, sir, has thrown me into such embarrasment, 
that — 

Gr. A merchant writing poetical compositions like this ? Bad 
sign, — bad sign. 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 23 

Pat Oh, father, it 's not at all surprising. So lovely a subject 
mi^ht inspire the stupidest man in the Avorld. 
Gr. What ? who is the subject 1 

Pat. Miss Carlyle, sir. She is the object of this sentimental eflu- 
sion. 

Gr. Miss Carlyle ! Zounds, sir — 

Br. I beg you, sir, let me say two words — 

Pat. Why any words ? Your deeds speak too plainly. Miss Car- 
lyle received these verses from — 

Br. Not from me. 

Pat. Not from you ? No, but from your go-between, however. 

Gr. What ? This is a serious charge, Mr. Brownjohn. 

Pat. Yes, father, William has been mean enough to act as go-be- 
tween for Mr. Brownjohn. 

Gr. Zounds, Mr. Brownjohn ! such conduct as this — 

Br. Give me a moment to explain, sir. 

Gr. Speak, sir ; speak, at once. 

Br. (x to Louisa). Miss Carlyle, it gives me much pain to see you 
suspected in this unpleasant affair ; but it is in your power to explain 
the mystery in one word. 

Lou. Sir, to these accusations against my character, my proper de- 
fence is to preserve silence. Any other course would be inconsistent 
with my own self-respect. 

Gr. Martha, have you dared to accuse Miss Carlyle ? 

Pat. Father, on my honor I saw William give these verses to Miss 
Carlyle. I think, for the reputation of our family — 

Br. Miss Grampus, the imputation that I have assailed the repu- 
tation of your family is one which I cannot submit to in silence. I 
declare, on my honor, that these verses were not sent by mo to Miss 
Carlyle, and were never intended for her. They were in my note- 
book, which I must have left on the table, yonder, and have been 
taken from it by some unauthorized hand. 

Pat. (x, and hunting about table). I see no note-book. 

Br. This, however, is the explanation of the whole affair, I'm 
sure. 

Gr. But, Mr. Brownjohn, if these verses were not intended for Miss 
Carlyle, for whom were they intended 1 

Br. Mr. Grampus — that — that is a secret. 

Lou. {aside to Patty). Doubtless for you. 

Pat. Eh! What? 

Gr. Hem ! — excuse me, Mr. Brownjohn, if your embarrassment 
compels me to form an unfavorable vie^v of your conduct. 

Pat. {beginning to understand). Dear father, perhaps — 

G)-. Silence, Martha ; this affair is far too delicate to be discussed 
any longer here. 

Br. You are right, Mr. Grampus. I will retire till this unhappy 
misunderstanding shall have been cleared up. Good afternoon, sir. 

[Exit through gate, c. 

Gr. {sternly). Martha, you have probably been hasty ; but you have 
developed a matter Avhich I must examine into more closely. Go tell 
William to come here at once. 

Lou. Let me go, Mr. Grampus. 



24 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT II. 

Gr. {tenderly). Let Martha go, if you please. (Stemh/) Go, Mar- 
tha. {Tenderly) I have a few words to say to you. Miss Carlyle. 

[Exit Patty, rnto house. 
Now, my dear, he frank with me. What do you knoAv of all this ? 

Lou. (r.) It^s a riddle to me, I assure you, sir. 

Gr. Then Mr. Brownjohn did n't send these verses to you ? 

Lou. No, sir. 

Gr. {tenderly). And you — you feel — pooh! you fesl no regard 
for him, eh 1 

Lou. Mr. Grampus ! 

Gr. Nay, nay, dear ; I 'm very glad to hear it. Yet it has seemed 
to me as if — mere nonsense, of course — as if he 'd hecn paying you 
very great attention, lately. 

Lou. I never suj)posed them to be anything more than the usual 
gallantry of young men. 

Gr. {very tenderly). Did you not ? I 'm glad to hear it, — delighted 
to hear it. Let 's change the subject. You Ve noticed, of course, that 
I am still sound and vigorous, — never ill ; in fact, still in the prime 
of life 1 

Lou. Oh, yes indeed, sir. Heaven keep you so, many, many years ! 

Gr. {very tenderly). Do you wish so 1 

Lou. Your whole household wishes so, sir ; and none of them more 
fervently than I do. 

Gr. Ah ! you are a dear, good girl, — an excellent, charming girl ; 
and if — if — if your affections — if you're not too old for me — I 
mean — hem ! you do not understand me, I see. 

Lou. Why, really, Mr. Grampus — 

Enter Uncle Egbert. 

Gr. Ah ! well, well ; here comes Uncle Kobert. He will explain, 
perhaps. {Draws him aside.) Single, make the proposal now. I've 
been sounding her, and she 's just in the humor. Give her my letter. 
When I come back, give me her answer. {To Louisa) Uncle has a 
few words to say to you, my dear. Pray give them a favorable an- 
swer. An revoir. [Exit through gate. 

Zou. (l.) What can he mean. He terrifies me. 

U. R. Nothing very terrible, little wifey. It need n't turn your 
hair gray. 

Lou. What have you to say to me, uncle 1 

U. R. Shall I give her his letter, or not 1 No ; it will only dis- 
tress her. She'd better never hear of the old fool's folly. 

Lou. What can have happened'? Why do you talk to yourself ? 
Oh, uncle ! relieve my anxiety at once. 

tl. R. Well, well, my darUng, Mr. Grampus is a little bit jealous, 
that's all. 

Lou. Jealous ? 

U. R. Don't be alarmed. He 's afraid Mr. Brownjohn has fallen 
in love with you ; nothing more. 

Lou. Mr. Brownjohn ? He has no need to be jealous of Mr. 
Brownjohn. 

U. R. I know it, dear, — I know it. Ha, ha, ha! of course he 
has n't. 

Lou. What do you know 1 



BCEKE I.] love's LABOR SAVED. 25 

U. R. [putting hand to mouth). Blabbing again. That is, my dar- 
ling, I mean — I think — 

Lou. {laughing). No, no, uncle; you've betrayed yourself. You 
know, I'm certain — 

U. R. What, for goodness' sake 1 

Lou. That Mr. Brownjohn, so far from caring for me, is dead in 
love with Patty. 

U. R. {stopping her mouth). Hush! hush! Who told you thatl 
I never did, did 1 1 

Lou. Why, do you think I 'm stone blind ? 

U. R. What the deuce ! I've seen nothing. 

Lou. If Patty would only confide a little more in me — 

U. R. She 'd do so at once, my dear, if she knew you were her 
sister. 

Lou. No, no. It 's out of the question, uncle. I cannot tell her. 

U. R. Then we must wait till time sees fit to clear matters up, I 
suppose. 

Lou. Yes. At least, I can do nothing without Edward's permis- 
sion. And, uncle, dear, here 's a letter I 've written to him. The 
mail goes at three. Edward will get it at six, and at eight he v/ill be 
here. I have n't addressed it, for fear my wiiting might be recognized. 
AVill you do it for me, uncle. 

U. R. Certainly. Give it me. {Takes her bg the chin.) Holdup 
your head, darling. Don't be frightened. All will end well, depend 
upon it. 

Enter Tatty, from house. 

Pat. {down c.) Looldng to see if Miss Carlyle has the tooth-ache, I 
suppose, uncle 1 Eye ! 

Lou. My dear Martha, a little confidence in my integrity and my 
regard for you, would put an end to all this misconstruction immedi- 
ately. [Exit L. 3 E. 

Pat. Nonsense, Mere pride and vanity. 

U. R. Patty, what conduct towards that poor girl ! 

Pat. Poor girl, indeed ! Are you bewitched by her arts, too ? 

U. R. Patty, if you knew — {Puts hand to mouth.) 

Pat. Knew what? 

U. R. Nothing, nothing, my dear. Hem ! 

Pat. (l.) You're very mysterious, Uncle Eobert; but you can't 
persuade me out of what I see with my own eyes. 

U. R. (r.) Tut ! What new ground of quarrel have you had with 
Brownjohn, Patty ? 

Pat. Uncle, the best in the world. He 's been writing verses to 
Miss Carlyle. That 's sufficient, I think. 

U. R. Impossible ! It can't be, my dear, 

Pat. Why not? 

U. R. Why, to my knowledge, she cares no more for him than he 
does for her. 

Pat. {delightedly). Oh, uncle ! go on, go on. 

C7. R. Go on ? But I've got through. 

Pat. No, no. If she does n't care for Julius, she must be thinking 
of somebody else ; and I wan't to know who it is. You know some- 
thing, uncle. You've let it out. 



26 UNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT II. 

U. R. [aside). How sharp- sighted these girls are ! Each sees clean 
through the other's secret. Amazing ! No, no, I don't know any- 
thing. 

Pat. The other ! What other ? Can Miss Carlyle have sus- 
pected — 

U. R. She saw, a long while since, how you and Brownjohn stood 
towards one another. 

Pat. And never told me 1 

U. R. How could she ? How have you behaved toAvards her ? — 
You 've been scornful, suspicious, overbearing. Patty, Patty, is that 
the way to behave towards a married lady "? [Puts hand to mouth. ) 

Pat. Married ! Married, did you say ? 

U. R. Hush ! no, I said no such thing. 

Pat. Uncle Eobert, you shan't escape so. You said married. Now, 
confess the whole story. 

U. R. Then don't make such a noise. Hush ! 

Pat. I insist. 

U. R. Well, well, don't speak so loud. Louisa is — has been, I 
should say — married. She 's a widow — probably — 

Pat. A widow ? 

U. R. Yes. It's a sad stoiy. Her husband went to California, 
two years ago, and she 's never heard from him since. Poverty com- 
pelled her to go into service. 

Pat. Poor creature ! And I 've done her so much injustice ! Dear, 
dear ! — and Julius — oh, I 'm so glad ! And here 's his note-book, on 
the ground, here, just where he said he left it. (Picks it up.) Wil- 
liam must have found it, the tiresome boy, and brought about all this 
mischief. Oh, I 'm so happy ! 

U. R. Queer thing, woman ! Foul weather and fair, rain and sun- 
shine, all in a minute ! 

Pat. Now, uncle, you must do me a great favor. 

U. R. What now ^ , ' ^ ^ ^ 

Pat. I promised Julius a tete a tete, this evening, at eight o'clock — 

U.R. Oho! 

Pat. Don't find fault. Lovers have had tete a tetes, ever since the 
world was made, of course. 

U. R. Indeed ! Oh, there, I have n't a word to say. Where is it 
to be ^ 

Pat. Never mind where, uncle. Now, Julius has gone away in a 
rage, and will not come ; so I want you to carry a note to the post 
office for me. You will, uncle ; now, won't you 1 

U. R. 'Pon my word ! What next 1 Am I to be made a go-be- 
tween, in my old age, for mercy's sake ? 

Pat. A go-between 1 How vulgar ! You should call it a postilion 
d'amour. 

U. R. Postilion d'amour. Well, well ; the deuce knows, women can 
always find a pretty name for a naughty tiling. 

Pat, Call it whatever you like, uncle, dear. I '11 run and write my 
note, at once. You must direct it for me, of course. [Exit into house. 

U. R. I believe I must sew my tongue into a bag. I 've always 
been famous for caution, eveiybody knows ; but I do believe I 'm los- 
ing my wits. I 've almost let out several secrets already. 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 27 

Enter Servant, from house. 

Ser. Mr. Single. 

U.R. Well, what is it ? 

Ser. A man from the telegraph office wants to see you or master, 
right away, sir. [Exit. 

U. R. Telegraph ! By George ! I 'd forgotten all about it. One 
thing drives another right out of my head. Ay, ay, I '11 come di- 
rectly, tell him. [Exit into house. 

Enter Brownjohn, at gate. 

Br. I hope nobody 's here. I want my note-book awfully. Cursed 
ill luck ! {Hunts about.) Not here ! Some one found it, then. This 
explains Patty's rage. If I could only get a single word with her. 
It would be too absurd to go into the house, after leaving it so grandly. 
Yet her father is away, for I saw him go. No, no, it won't do. What 
devilish bad luck ! She '11 not expect me at the tete a tete, to-night ; 
so she won't come herself. Hark ! is n't that her voice 1 and her old 
uncle's, too. They must n't see me here. {Retires into arbor.) 

Enter Uncle Robert, with telegram. 

U. R. Tompkins' messenger was in a deuce of a hurry. This must 
be good for Grampus. Where can I find himi At the broker's of- 
fice, I suppose, his usual place. 

Enter Patty, /rom house. 

Pat. Now, uncle, I depend on you. Here's the note. {Kisses 
him.) There. [Exit. 

U. R. Well, little tease ; I '11 see. {Puts letter in poclcet, and going 
towards gate.) 

Br. Sh— sh — 

U. R. (l.) Hey ? what 's that ? Who 's here 1 

Br. {coming out, r.) I, sir. 

U. R. Ah, Brownjohn ! very lucky, this. It saves me a walk. 
I 've a letter for you, from Patty. She wants you to come, all the 
same, this evening. {Feels for letter.) Here. {Gives telegram.) 

Br. Bravo ! let's have it. {Tears it open.) 

U. R. Ha, ha ! what mad folks these lovers are ! 

Br. {aside). What's all this? — " Recognition of the Southern Con- 
federacy ! War ! Calcutta goods gone up a hundred per cent ! 
Be quick! " {Turns over letter.) No address. This can't be for me. 
No matter ; it 's a great piece of luck. {Pockets letter. ) I must make 
haste. Uncle, you've made my fortune! Tell Patty to expect me 
at eight, without fail. {Runs off, through gate. ) 

U. R. Ha, ha, ha ! mad as a March hare ! However, young folks 
are not the only fools in the world. Old boy, don't throw stones. — 
Little Louisa has bewitched you too. Ass that I am ! I might have 
had just such a sweet little wife, once, myself. Nonsense ! what am 
I dreaming about 1 I must run and give Grampuj this steamer news. 
{Going.) 

Enter Grampus, at gate. 

Gr. (r.) Hallo, uncle ; I say, any news for me 1 



23 UNCLE ROBERT', OR, [ACT III. 

Z7. R. (l.) Ifews ! I warrant you. Tremendous! Here. {Gives 
Louisa's note.) 

Gr. {opening it). "This evening — in uncWs room. — more 
when we meet. In ike greatest haste — Louisa. Uncle, you 're a 
jewel. If all goes well, I '11 give you a set of chess-men of solid gold. 
There. [Exit into house. 

U. R. Ha, ha ! this Calcutta business must be very profitable. 
Gold chess-men ! "Well, well ; such is man. Queer creatures ! Rare 
world ! rare world ! Stop, I must get this note to Ned, Louisa asked 
m.e to direct it. ( Tahes out tioo letters.) Zounds ! here are two. Oh, 
av, this is Grampus's to Louisa. Yes, yes ; I thought best not to give 
it to her. No address on this, neither. Ha, ha, ha ! By the way, 
which is for Ned 1 {Holds them up to light. ) This must be the one, 
it 's so much larger. K I 'd changed 'em, there 'd have been the deuce 
and all to pay. Ha, ha ! I should never hear the last of it. 

[Exit^ laughing. 

[All four letters must be of same size and appearance.) 

END OP ACT II. 



ACT III. 

SCENE I. — Uncle Robert's room in cottage. — Boor in fiat. — 
Closet on each side, with curtains. — Batj-window in flat, with 
curtains. — Clothes on pegs against wall. — Table on r. and l., 
with long cloth on each. — Chairs, ^c. 

Enter Brownjohn and Patty. 

Pat. Come in. Gracious, how frightened I feel ! 

Br. Calm yourself, Patty. There can be no danger. Nobody ever 
comes here. 

Pat. Are you certain you saw who it was ? 

Br. Yes ; 'William. He 's after flowers, I suppose. I saw him 
jump from the garden-wall. 

Pat. Oh, how dreadful if he were to see us here ! And he 's no 
business in the garden, at this time of night. Father forbade his 
going into it. How fortunate uncle's door was ajar ! 

Br. Ah, Patty ! do you see, now, how much injustice you did me ? 

Pat. Hush, Julius. I 'm willing, this time, to believe in your in- 
nocence. 

Br. Believe ! Are you not absolutely certain of it 1 Ought you 
not to be so, at all times ? 

Pat. Ah, Julius ! who can trust men ? 

Br. But surely you should have confidence in me, dearest. Tell 
me you have, Patty; — tell me so. 

Pot. Good gracious, Julius, do you want a confession of my injus- 
tice from mv ov/n Hps, when you have it already in my letter ? 

Br. What letter? 

Pat. Why, did n't you receive my letter 1 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 29 

Br. No , your uncle told me verbally you expected me here this 
evening ; but he gave me no letter from you. 

Pat. Did n't give you my note ? 

Br. Then there was a note for me "? There must have been a mis- 
take made. 

Pat. A mistake ! Good heavens ! 

Br. Hush ! I thought I heard something. 

Pat. Footsteps! {Runs to window.) Heavens ! it 's Louisa ! 

Br. What can she want here 1 

Pat. She 's coming straight to this cottage. Oh, if she should dis- 
cover us ! 

Br. What 's to be done 1 

Pat. We must hide somewhere. We can't escape. There 's only 
one door. {Runs to closet, l., and drops curtain.) 

Br. This is infernal ! {runs to same closet.) 

Pat. Not in here ! Heavens ! 

Br. Where shall I go ? 

Pat. Get behind those clothes ; — quick ! 

Br. Nice position, this ! {Hides in closet, r. f.) 

Enter Louisa, d. f. 

Lou. Not come yet. Can uncle have forgotten to send my note ? 
My position here is dreadful. Edward must confess everything, or 
take mo away. If old Mr. Grampus should put his looks into words 
everything will come out at once. {Goes to window.) A beautiful 
evening. Edward will have a delightful ride. Ha ! who is that % 
Can it be Edward ? No ; he is taller. It is William ! He 's stealhig 
more flowers. The crazy boy will embarrass me terribly, yet, I feel 
sure. I wish he might be r^aught. What 's that '? He starts — looks 
round. Can there be any one coming 1 He 's running right to this 
cottage. Good heavens ! where can I hide 1 {Runs to closet, k., and 
drops curtain.) 

Enter William, with flowers, d. f. 

. Wil. Ha! not to be caught so easily. {Goes to loindoia.) Erom 
here I can see who that was, I guess. And have I chmbed the wall, 
at the risk of my life, to be caught like a rat, at last 1 Your most 
obedient servant, sir. Not so fast, if you please. I 'd like to know 
who it is, prowling about the garden. Father's cough, I thought ; but 
what can he be doing here, at this time ^ If father should catch me, 
oh, what a wigging I should get ! Phew ! But she 's fond of flowers, 
and no danger shall deter — Jupiter ! here 's some one coming. 
{Rims to Patty's closet, and lifts curtain. — She pushes him away.) 
Patty here ! What on earth — Hark ! here he comes. ( Crawls 
under table, R.) Here 's fun ! 

Br. {looking out). Awkward position, this ! I can't see a thing. 
(Draivs bach.) 

Wil. Didn't somebody speak? [Draws hack.) 

Enter Edward, d. f. 

Ed. Nobody here ! Where can she be ? I must get an explana- 
tion of father's mysterious letter. I can't comprehend it. {Reading 
Utter) '♦ Dear Louisa, you have greatly pleased me, and your hap- 
3# 



so FKCLE K03KRT ; OE, [aCT III. 

piness is the fondest wish of my heart. I am of rir/il principles, as 
you knoiD, but despise prejudice ; and this I will prove to your entire 
satisfaction. I ask for a quiet tele a tcte with, you, where, undis- 
turbed, we can discuss Tnaiters- morefulhjJ" It 's certainly father's hand, 
and Ms illegible signature ; but the address is to me, and in Uncle 
Eobert's handv/riting, I can't make head or tail of it. The letter is 
certainly to my Avife. Then how comes it into r/iy hands 1 And what 
does it mean, if it is to my wife 1 Can Uncle Eobert have let out our 
secret, and father mean to tell Louisa he consents 1 It looks like it. 
Or has. father fallen in love with her himself'? It's not impossible. 
And why has n't Louisa written to me? I couldn't have stayed in 
Cottonville another hour. I wish Uncle Bob would come. Patience, 
patience. Hark ! somebody 's coming. Here he is,, at last. 'So, that 's 
father's cough. Zounds !' he 's coming straight here! He mustn't 
see mo here, on any account. Where can I hide 1 (i?WMs to Louisa's 
closet, and starts back. — She pulls him in.) 

Wil. {who has watched him). He's hid, too. Ha, ha! {Draws 
back.) 

Enter Grampus, d. f. — Siaje darker. 

Gr. (reading). " This evening — in uncWs room. More when 
we meet. In the greatest haste — Louisa." Well, I never dreamed it 
could be done so easily. I thought girls usually hung back a Httle, 
at first ; but Louisa, here, jumps at the chance. Humph ! — all the 
better. It tickles my vanity mightily, too ; for she would n't have 
been so ready if I hadn't taken her fancy. Ha, ha, ha ! The little 
witch is cunning, too. She knows the place for a tete a fete, — trust 
her. Single little dreams what 's going on in his bachelor quarters. 
Ha, ha, ha ! What a face he 'd make ! 'T would be as good as a 
play. Ho, ho, ho ! 

17. R. {without). Well-managed house, this! Dog running loose 
about the garden. Fine doings ! 

Gr. The deuce 1 there 's Single ! What brings him. home so early ? 
Perhaps he '11 not stay long. I '11 hide. ( Gets wider table, l.) 

Wil. Ha, ha 5 Now it 's complete. All bottled up together, now. 
{Draws back.) 

Enter Uncle Robert, with bottle in hand. 

U. B. Ha, ha ! check-mated the major, in spite of liim. Pity I 
could n't stay for another game. But it would never do not to have a 
glass of wine ready for Ned, after his ride. No, no. Why don't he 
come "? It 's growing quite dark. Louisa seems in no great hurry, 
either. {Puts bottle on r. table, and lights candle.) Why, how's this ? 
All the curtains down ? I shall stifle. Where 's my dressing-gown 1 
{Goes to closet.) 

Gr. {putting out head). I hope the old dolt doesn't intend to stay. 
{Draws back.) 

Pat. {seen). Hush, for Heaven's sake, uncle ! 

U. R. {dropping curtain) . Patty! What the deuce! — what is she 
about here 1 and why should I hush ? ( Goes to other closet. — Louisa 
seen making an imploring gesture. ) Oho ! Patty, the minx, gets ear of 
this interview, and comes to listen ; and Louisa, seeing her coming, 
slips in there. I see. What shall I do, now 1 Humph ! — I '11 take 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. "'31 

aTglass of wine, and pretend not to see. {Sits at n. table, and JcicJcs 
WillijJlm). Heavens and cavth! there's some one under the table ! 
{Retreats.) Can a thief have got in here, and these girls hid them- 
selves'? {Backs against Brownjoiin.) Zounds! here's another! 
I'll run for help. No, it can't be thieves. There 's nothing to steal 
here. Ha, ha, ha ! eautious, old boj, — cautious. I '11 pretend to go 
away, and leave them to settle iL {Opens and shuts door loudly, and 
creeps behind curtains of (hay-window.) 

Wil. {looking out). I wish I could cut awaj. (Grampus looJcs out. 
— The// see each other. — A pause. ) 

Wil. {humbly). Good evening, father. 

Gr. What brings you here, sir ? 

Wil. {whispering). I — I — it 's only for fun, sir. 

Gr. {craioling out). Come out, sir. (William comes out.) What 
am I to think ? 

Wil. Noth — nothing, sir. 

Gr, What business have you in the garden, at this time of night ? 

Wil. {whining). I 'm very sorry, sir, 

Gr. The truth, now, su-. No lying ! Did you come to steal flow- 
ers again ? 

Wil. {hiding flowers hehind him.) Of course not, sir. I wanted — I 
wanted — 

Gr. No hesitation, you rascaL Out with it. What did you corao 
for? 

Wil. I came, sir — it's onl}' fun^ father — I came — to watch 
Patty, sir. 

Gr, Patty! Where «s she ? . 

WiL In there, sir. 

Gr. I'll soon settle this business. {Lifts curtain.) 

Pat. {humbly). Good — good evening, father, 

Gr. These are fine doings ! What brings you here, Martha 1 

Pat. I_I_I_ 

Gr. Why don't you speak, Miss Grampus. This is very suspi- 
cious. 

Pat. Oh, father ! there 's no harm in it, really. 

Gr. There 's no good in it, or you 'd be more ready with your 
answers. So, this is the way it goes on in my house. Confess the 
truth, now. Come ! quick ! 

Pat. I — I — I wanted to see what Louisa — Edward — 

Gr. Louisa ! Edward ! Where are they ? 

Pat. In there, sir. 

Gr. What does all this mean ? Come out, there ! (Patty x to 
William. — Edward and Louisa come out.) Upon my word! 
What brings you' rom Cotton ville, sir? And you, Miss Carlyle, 
concealed here with my son. What must I think ? 

Pat. {aside to William). Sneak ! What did you tell of me for ? 

Wil. Everybody for number one, Patly. I couldn't help it, really. 

Gr. All silent ? — No answer ? 

Ed. {aside to Patty). Malicious creature ! to betray us. 

Pat. Everybody for number one, EdAvard. I couldn't help it, 
really. 

Gr. 1 see I ask in vain. Where 's your uncle 1 All this can't have 
happened without his knoAving of it. 



32 tTNCLE ROBERT ; OR, [ACT III. 

Pat, Yes, sir; uncle will explain everything. 

Wil. Yes, father. Uncle Bob 's the man. 

Gr. Where is he, I say 1 

Wil. In there, sir. 

U. R. {coming out) . Good evening, children. {Rubs hands nervously.) 

All. Uncle Eobert! 

U. R. Yes, children ; I 'm not deaf. 

Gr. Explain, Single, how it happens — 

Ed. You know the whole story. Uncle Eobert. Explain this mys- 
terious — 

Pat. Uncle Eobert, do help us out of this dreadful affair ! 

U. R. 'Pon my word ! here 's a vast deal to be done, all in a 
breath. 

All. Speak ! — speak ! 

U. R. Well, well ; so be it, then. But first, let me ask how you 
all came in my room ? All silent 1 Then I must go through you in 
order. WilHam, how came you in my room 1 

Wil. I 'm the youngest one here, Uncle Eobert. You ought to 
begin with the older ones first. 

U. R. The older first, then. Well, Grampus, you 're the oldest, I 
think. 

Gr. {taking him aside) . Hush ! I wrote to Louisa a sort of proposal 
and asked for an interview ; and she agreed to meet me here. {All re- 
tire a little but Grampus and Uncle Eobert.) 

U. R. Here ! Impossible ! 

Gr. See for yourself. {Hands letter.) 

U. R. Why, how did you get this ? 

Gr. You gave it to me yourself. 

U.R. I! This was for Ned. 

Gr. Edward ! Hoav comes Miss Carlyle to be writing such letters 
as this to Edward ? 

U. R. Oh ! perhaps — it 's not for Edward — 

Gr. Yes, on second thoughts, it must be for Edward. His being 
hereto-night shows there's some secret between them. This letter 
must have got into my hands by some blunder. 

U. R. Blunder ! But where 's the other, then ? 

Gr. Other! What other? 

TJ. R. {aside). Here 's a nice business ! Who can have got the tel- 
egram 1 

Gr. I'm wholly at a loss what to think of all this. What other 
letter ought I to have received ? Single, I insist on an answer. 

U. R. {aside). All 's up, now. All I can say is, that since you re- 
ceived this, Ned must have got the other. 

Ed. {coining down t,.) Exactly ; I have. It was this which induced 
me to come here to-night. 

U. R. {taking letter). Thank goodness! all's safe, then. Look, 
Grampus — Zounds ! what 's this 1 

Gr. {softly). That's my note to Louisa. 

U. R. {stupijied). So it seems. 

Gr. And here 's the address, in your handwriting, to Edward. 

U. R. Yes — of course — exactly. 

Ed. The only meaning I could attach to it was this : I supposed 
Uncle Eobert must have told you the whole story, father, and that - 



SCENE I.] love's labor SAVED. 83 

you wanted an interview with Louisa, to assure her you had no ob- 
jection to her poverty, and approved heartily of our marriage. 

Gr. Marriage ! VVhat ! you and Louisa married ! 

U. R. (aside to Grampus). For Heaven's sake, Grampus, get out 
of this scrape the best way you can. They 've been married these 
three months. This letter of yours has, luckily, two meanings. If 
it's known you designed Louisa for yourself, you'll be a regular 
laughing-stock. 

Gr. This is horrible ! 

U. R. {aside to him). If you thought her fit to be your wife, you 
can't refuse her for a daughter. You 'd better say yes, at once ; it 's 
your only course. 

Gr. (raging). You 'i-e right. Uncle has told me all, my children ; 
and though I ought to be very angry with you both — 

Ed. Dear father, you forgive us. 

Gr. (joining their hands). Bless you, my darlings, in Heaven's 
name — The devil ! 

Ed. and Lou. Oh, thank you, sir ! thank you, a thousand times ! 

Gr. Kiss me, daughter. And if you love this rascal Edward, here, 
— whom I suppose I must call home from Cottonville, now, — don't 
foi-get his old, cross father. 

Lou. Oh, no, sir ; never, never ! (Edward and Louisa retire.) 

U. R. Aha ! this is capital ! — capital ! 

Gr. Capital ? Humph ! Well, this clears up one mystery. Now 
what brings Patty hei-e 1 

U. R. Stay, I must have the other letter in my pocket still. Right, 
here it is. And now my mind is at ease. 

Gr. What letter is this '? 

U. R. The telegram from New York [Boston — Halifax]. I gave 
you Louisa's letter instead. 

Gr. Confusion ! It 's too late. It 's mere waste paper. What 's 
all this ? (Reads) *' L have done you an injustice. Come to the garden 
this evening, and L will explain all. Ever yours — Patty." 

Pat. Oh, Heavens ! it 's my letter. 

U. R. Your letter 1 

Gr. Martha, what is the meaning of this ? To whom is this 
written ? 

Pat. To — to — to — 

Gr. Answer me directly. 

Pat. To — to — to — ilr. Brownjohn, 

Gr. So ! But more of this by-and-by. The most important first. 
Single, where is the telegram ? 

U. R. I don't know, Grampus. I'm turned completely topsy- 
turvey. 

Gr. The telegram ! — hunt for the telegram ! (x to l.) 

Br. (coming out). Here it is, sir. Permit me. (Comes down r. 0/ 
Patty.) 

Wil. Another one ! I wonder if there 's any more of 'em. 

Gr. And what brings you here, sir 1 

Br. The letter in your hand, sir, was meant for me ; but by some 
mistake Mr. Single gave me this. I opened it hastily, and learnt the 
news. I saw its value ; and I trust to escape your censure for having 
turned it to account. I bought on time so largely, in consequence, as 



S4 UKCLE EOBEKT ; OR, [ACT III. 

to be now, probably, a rich man ; and may ask, without disparity, for 
the hand of your adorable daughter. 

Gr. Single, Single, what sort of a trick have you played me now ? 

U. R. Give him the girl, Grampus, and keep the money in the 
family. Patty loves him, and he 's proved himself a sharp feUow. 
Give him the girl. 

Pat. Ah, father, do ! 

Br. Ah, Mr. Grampus, consider our despair ! 

Lou. Pray make another couple happy, dear father. 

Gr. Hark'e, sir; youVe played me a rascally trick, but a sharp 
one ; and I 'm determined to punish you. I '11 be revenged. Take 
the girl. 

Pat. Dear, darling, nice, good father ! 

Wil. Well, by Jove ! here 's a pretty go ! 

U. R. [wiping his forehead). Now there's two happy pairs. Who 
could have expected, at noon to-day, that all these ttungs could have 
come to pass before the day was out. Grampus, I congratulate you. 

Gr. Humph, Single ! a nice boggle you 've made of this business ! 

Ed. Kept dark'about nothing ! 

Wil. Blabbed every blessed thing. Uncle Robert ! 

U. R. Well, well, children, don't be too hard on your old uncle. 
You gave me too many secrets to take care of. I 'm only thankful 
the troubles of an old bachelor have ended as well as they have. ( To 
audience) Would any other lady or gentleman like to make me their 
confidant 1 Won't any one step forward ? Well, I 'm sm*e ! Who 
could have wound up matters more happily ? 

SITUATIONS. 
tJuCLE Robert. > 

». H. CURTAIN. L. H. 



Spencer's Boston Theatre. 

■ . ,.^__0._., : 

Price, 12 1-2 Cents, each. Ten for One Dollar. 
BOUND VOI.IJMES. ffil. 



VOL. XVI 

121 The Wonder, 

122 The Rights of Man. 

123 Piolicrt Knnnet, 
12-1 My HusbHiul's Ghost. 
\25 Fightijig by Tro-xy, [Game 

126 Two Can IMay at that 

127 Unprotected Female, 

128 Green Bushes. 

VOL xvn. 

120 Flowers of the Forest 

130 Forty and Fifty, 

131 Who Stole the Pocketbook 

132 A Bachelor of Arts. 
:33 My Son Diana, 

.34 The Midnight Banquet. 
35 Unwarrantable Intrusion. 
.36 Mr. & Mrs. White. 

VOL. XVIII. 

37 A Qniet Family. 

38 Hoflhand of an hoar. 

39 Love's Labour's Lost 

40 The Naiad Queen. 

41 Caprice. 

42 Cool as a Cucumber, 

43 Sudden Thoughts, 

44 Jumbo Jum. 

VOL. XIX. 

45 The Cradle of Liberty. 

46 A Blighted Being, 

47 Little Toddlekins. 

48 The Lost Ship, 

49 A Lover by Proxy, [Pail, 

50 Maid with the Milking 

51 Country Squire, 

52 Perplexing Predicament. 

VOL. XX. 

53 Fraud and Its Victims. 

54 Dr. Dilworth. 

55 Out to Nurse 
_. Putnam. 

57 The King and Deserter 

58 A Lucky Hit* 

59 1 iie Dowager, 
La Fiammina, 



VOL. XXX. 

161 A Hard Struggle, 

162 Gwiiiiidh Vaughan, 

163 The Love Knot, 

104 iMetiimora, Burlesque, 

105 Dreams of Delusion, 

166 The Sliaker Lovers, 

167 Ticklish Times, [Tiger, 

168 Twenty Minutes with a 

VOL. XXII. 

169 Miralda or the Justice of 

170 Heads or Tails. [Tacon, 

171 A Soldiers' Courtship, 

172 Lavater, or Not a bad 

173 The ^oble Heart, [Judge, 

174 Coriolanus, 

175 The Winter's Tale, 

176 Servants by Legacy, 

VOL. XXIII. 

177 Eveleen Wilson, 

178 Nick Whitlles, 

179 The Queen's Heart, 

180 Dying for Love, 

181 The Urate's Leg.<icy, 

182 An Alarming Sacrifice, 

183 The Valet de Sham, 

184 Nicholas Nickleby. 

VOL. XXIV. 

185 The Last of the Pigtails, 

186 King Rene's Daughter, 

187 The Grotto Nymph, 

188 The Charcoal Burner, 

189 Adel^tha, 

190 A Devlish Good Joke, 

191 A Tmce Told Tale, 

192 Pas de Fascination. 

VOL. XXV. 

193 Scnor Valiente, 

194 Faust and Marguerite, 

195 Kural Felicity, 
190 Ivanhoe, 

197 The Olio, Part 1, 

198 The Olio, •« 2, 

199 Shakespeare Proverbs, 

200 By Mrs. Cowden Clarke, 



VOL. XXVI. 

201 Tlie Bov Martyrs. 
802 Mary's Birthday. 

203 AveiiKcr or Moor of Sicily 

204 The Lady and the Devil, 

205 The liovo'lntioiiary {^Idier 

206 A Man without a Head 

207 The Trumpeter's Daugh- 

208 Seeing Wurrcn, [ter 

VOL. XXVII. 

209 Green Blountain Boy, 

210 Wc'jt End, or Irish heiress. 

211 Don't forget your Opera 

212 "That Nose." [Glass* 
2f3 Uncle Robert^ 

214 
215 
216 



VOL. XXVIII. 



217 
218 
219 
220 
221 
222 



VOL. XXIX. 



226 

227 
228 
229 
230 
231 



VOL. XXX. 



233 
234 
233 
236 
237 



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